Baby You're a Rich Man
by 02AngelBaby75
Summary: A hippie keeps bugging the Once-ler to stop chopping down the tress, and he gets mad. He gets terribly mad.
1. Making Progress

_How does it feel to be  
One of the beautiful people?  
Now that you know who you are  
What do you want to be?  
And have you travelled very far?  
Far as the eye can see.  
How does it feel to be  
One of the beautiful people?  
How often have you been there?  
Often enough to know.  
What did you see, when you were there?  
Nothing that doesn't show.  
Baby you're a rich man...  
_  
~**Baby You're a Rich Man**,_ The Beatles _

* * *

Thneed. That single word is on everyone's minds these days. No one does not own at least one Thneed. This makes the Once-ler wonder very much, because all you truly need is one. It can do everything, absolutely anything. He smiles. A simple childhood idea has turned into a luxury item, turned him into a bazillionaire. It is a shirt, a sock, a glove, a hat. It can also be used as a carpet, a pillow, sheets or curtains, even covers for bicycle seats!

Of course, there is always someone who is not happy. And that someone is The Lorax, who keeps pestering the Once-ler every damn day, it seems. It's nearly quitting time for the workers on this unusually cloudy day, and there has been no sign of the mustached fiend. He very nearly breathes a sigh of relief, but that signifies his duties are done, and business is never done.

He makes himself a mug of hot chocolate, topped with five marshmallows. Aw, why not ten? Once-ler frowns, pouring the rest of the bag into the liquid until it nearly overflows. Yummy. As ruthless of a businessman as he is, how could he ever refuse such a delicious treat? How could anyone refuse hot cocoa? With marshmallows? If heaven existed (and if that's where he would end up, rather than...less desirable places), this is what it would be like. Just him, his money, a Thneed, and marshmallows.

He stands out on the balcony to get a look outside. He has not been outside for weeks, it seems. Must be allergies, he tells himself and his family, but of course he is afraid to leave the safety of his home. Home is safe, where he is guilt-free, with a clear conscience. Outside just reminds him of what he has done, what he's hurting. Alas, nothing seems unusual or out of place. The sky is a little more grey, perhaps. There are a little less truffula trees in the east, but besides that, not bad. Business is booming.

But-what is this the Once-ler sees? He pulls his sunglasses down his nose. A person, it seems, is frolicking about the forest, chasing after a little Barbaloot. Judging by the waist-long, powdery pink hair and the flowing, floor-brushing dress, the person most definitely is female. How sweet, he thinks to himself with an annoyed little smile. Though this may sound quite strange coming from the world's most successful man, he absolutely hates others around him enjoying themselves more than he is. He tries to ignore the laughs which seem to becoming increasing louder. How peculiar it is to hear something other than the chopping of Truffula trees and the whirl of machines making Thneeds.

And the Once-ler does not like it.

He grabs a bullhorn somewhat magically from one of the numerous shelves and rushes to the open window. He leans out as far as his long body can reach, and shouts, "Shut up!"

The girl stops almost immediately, and at the sound of his angry voice, the Barbaloot leaps into her arms and buries his face into her shoulder. The girl cups her free hand behind her ear, jogging forward slightly to get a better look at who very rudely told her to shut up. "What?" she yells.

"I told you to shut up!"

The Barbaloot squeaks, jumps back to the ground to the annoying girl's utter surprise, and takes off, leaving her standing there, dumbfounded.

_At least she's quiet now_, he thinks, slamming the window and stalking off to finish his poor hot chocolate, which has certainly grown stone cold by this point. Once-ler nods to his secretary as he walks by, a distant cousin of his whom never gave a hoot about him until he had become rich and famous. She smiles, flipping her blonde hair back. Maybe he will fire her. She tries too hard to impress him…Like everyone else.

* * *

The girl, discouraged and a little frightened, trudges back to her home on the outskirts of the Truffula forest. Three or four, or even five Barbaloots chase after her, captivated by the trailing pink tail of her dress. Her friend, The Lorax, is waiting for her to get back, as he always does.

"Hey, kid," he says, sitting up from his laying position on the grass next to her front door. He cracks his back and sighs in contentment. "How did it go?"

"Meh," she mumbles. Gently, she shoos the little bears away and plops to the grass next to her friend. She curls up into a ball and sniffles. "He noticed me today. But he told me to shut up and go away."

The girl, whose name would be Krickett, is a hippie, an environmental activist, a part-time pacifist, a self-proclaimed Barbaloot whisperer and an umbrella maker. Ever since the Thneed became all the rage she had quit her job making umbrellas, and is currently camping out in the forest, plotting with her new-found best friend, the Guardian of the Trees, a way to stop the Once-ler.

"That's alright, kid," The Lorax says as if soothing a crying child. He pats the top of her head. "That's the best we've done yet. At least he knows you're there now!"

"That's true," Krickett replies, smiling a little toothily. "Maybe we should make picket signs next time!" The girl springs to her feet with renewed vigor. She pumps her fist in the air. "Picketing! That'll show him!" She takes The Lorax's little hand in her own and drags him into her humble abode before he can get a word in. "Let's make some right now! How about…" She tosses him onto the kitchen table, and then runs to the cupboard to grab some markers. "_Death to the Thneed_!"

"Krickett…I think it's been a long day for you. Running around the forest, playing with the Barbaloots, trying to get Beanpole's attention…" The Lorax rattles on, just as tired as the girl with the time spent waiting up for her.

"Okay." Krickett's face falls and she lands on her back onto her small yet comfy pink bed. "There's gotta be a way we can stop this! We gotta do _something_…I _did_ make some progress today, but…" Krickett holds her head in her hands and groans loudly.

The Lorax bids her farewell, saying he will be back in the morning to continue their, 'Plotting.'

* * *

_Yes, I have been pooping out Once-ler stories. Oh well :) Tell me if Krickett is okay. This will not be a Once-ler/OC. _


	2. Picketing

Early the next day, Krickett is up and bustling about her small home, getting out the cardboard and the giant Sharpies and a pointy stick, all while munching on a burnt piece of toast. Anxiously, she awaits The Lorax. Or a Barbaloot, perhaps, just to keep her company and calm her nerves. Krickett is one of those people who hardly ever becomes nervous. How peculiar, she thinks. But the trees! If I don't do something no one else will!

"_La la la la laaaa_..." Krickett hums, drumming the Sharpie against her knee. After putting her figurative, 'Thinking Cap,' on, the idea strikes her like a vision. "Death to the Thneed!" she proclaims victoriously, crumbs flying from her mouth. Quickly, she writes this on the cardboard in thick, bold letters, using up the Sharpie's ink as well as making herself a little dizzy in the process.

A recycled idea. She had already thought of it the other day, but what does it matter?

Krickett sighs happily, and begins messily taping the, 'Death to the Thneed!' sign to the stick, when a knock at the door distracts her. In fact, it absolutely terrifies her, and by accident the hippie spills her glass of orange juice all over the floor. Luckily, none gets on the picket sign.

Sighing in relief, Krickett rushes to the door to find The Lorax there, a smiley sort of frown on his little fizzy face. "Hey, kid."

"Oh, good morning! Come on in!" Krickett leaves her guest and skips over to the table, waving it around in The Lorax's face before he has barely stepped inside. "See? Do you like it?"

"Get that away from me," he grumbles, shoving past her and making a beeline for the fridge. "Got anything good for breakfast, sweetheart?"

"But...but, my sign," a very rejected-feeling Krickett pleads.

"Oh, that," said The Lorax, closing the fridge door, apparently not finding anything worth eating. He shrugs and smiles encouragingly. "A fine job. That'll show him!"

"Yay!" Krickett bends over and scoops the Forest Guardian into her arms, into a frantic bosom clutch. "I'm so glad. I really hope you're right. This will definitely help something!"

The Lorax does not have it in his heart to tell the young girl the reality of the situation. He knows it nothing will come from the picketing. Nothing good, anyway. Either the Once-ler will shoo her away, leave her be, or something much worse. Of course he doesn't want to tell her of the trouble she could get in. He hopes she is already aware of this and Krickett is very brave, but deep down The Lorax knows it is not true. She is much too naïve for her own good. Just the way Beanpole was, he realizes with a sad sigh.

Krickett feels the sigh against her. She holds him away from herself at arm's length and asks, "What's the matter?"

"Well, first of all, you can help by putting me down," The Lorax sighs.

"'Kay." Krickett does so. "What's bothering you, Mr. Lorax?"

He looks up at her. The sad, pale green eyes, her face in an expression that could only be described as a pout. And he hadn't the heart, so he replies, "Nothing. It's just I get lonely by myself, that's all." The Lorax blinks hard, hoping Krickett won't see through the lie. Well, half a lie. He indeed doesn't want to go with her, for he knows if Beanpole catches sight of him, there will be hell to pay. However, he does not miss the hippie overly much. Especially when she is hyper. He welcomes the break, the time spent alone. Saying so would hurt the little thing's feelings, and he doubts she would ever recover.

"Aww!" Krickett smiles. "That's so nice. I miss you, too."

He is expecting her to ask him to come along with her, but she doesn't, to his relief. He would really be in a pickle then.

"Well, Mr. Lorax, I'll see you in...a while! I've made sure to bring some cookies and some Truffula fruit which tastes like pomegranates. And I have puzzles and my diary so I don't get bored." She gives a thumbs up.

At this, The Lorax honestly has no words other than, "Good luck, kid."

* * *

The Once-ler wonders if the girl knows he is watching her. Every now and then he glances up from paperwork or a phone call, or whatever he is busy doing, and there she will be, marching back and forth in front of the gates. A couple of people who have passed by have thrown tomatoes at her. One hit her square in the face, but she kept on going until ten at night. This earns her some respect. _Just a little_. No one understands that sinking feeling better than he himself.

At first it makes him laugh. Environmentalists. What do they think standing around with signs is truly going to accomplish?

Secondly, however it soon begins to annoy him. The Once-ler hates plenty of things, but he hates nothing more than someone who does not have a Thneed. He really isn't sure if this is true of the hippie, but it must be. Since when did he ever doubt his instincts?

So on the next day the hippie girl shows up, a large tomato stain on the back of her dress, Once-ler takes a freshly knitted Thneed and strolls on into the open air to greet her. Before he leaves he makes sure his hat is straight and his coat is neat, sunglasses polished. He hopes she will be reasonable and not cause him to lose his temper.

* * *

He comes up behind her during the most-likely last break of the day. The sun has just set. Rather than leaving the sky a brilliant swirl of yellow and orange, it remains just as dismal and grey as before. She is sitting cross-legged on the grass, chewing peacefully on a large peanut butter cookie.

"Good morning," he says, suppressing a cough, hands folded behind his back.

The girl's shoulders visibly jump, and the cookie nearly flies from her grip. She scrambles to her feet, stuffing the rest of it in her mouth. Awkwardly, she lifts the corner of her dress and bows slightly. "G-good morning," she replies, swallowing thickly.

"_Hehehe_."

"What?"

The Once-ler grins, a sly sort of smile that makes Krickett very uneasy. She isn't sure what is worse-the smile or the chuckle. "Why would you say, 'Good morning,'" he says, "when you and me both know it's the evening?"

"I don't know, Mr. O-once-ler. I'm sorry." Krickett curses herself for sounding so nervous, and curses herself again for _being_nervous.

He steps closer, whipping out a bright pink Thneed from behind his back. Krickett blinks as he begins the routine. Just like clockwork. Its charm had been lost quite a while ago. "_You need a Thneed! A Thneed is a fine thing that all people need! It's a_-"

"Mr. Once-ler I don't want a Thneed," Krickett interrupts the display, her voice braver than intended. She stands on her tiptoes, an attempt at appearing taller, as the businessman towers above her, taller by at least a head and a half.

As suspected. The Once-ler sighs loudly, tossing the Thneed over his shoulder. Unbeknownst to Krickett, the Once-ler is not a very agile human being, and he nearly almost laughs at his success, the item actually staying in place. "Then what can I do for you, hmm?" He leans down slightly, getting a better look at her scared, pale little face.

"Um," the girl sputters. "I-I-think..." At a loss for words, Krickett bends to pick up her 'Death to the Thneed!' picket sign. She points to it and nods enthusiastically.

"Death to the Thneed..." Once-ler mumbles. His eye twitches. Faster than anyone Krickett has ever seen, he snatches the sign from her hands, promptly snapping it into two.

A hand flies to her mouth in absolute shock at the action. Krickett takes multiple steps away, frightened by the glint in his eye. The Once-ler takes a deep breath, straightens his tie, adjusts his glasses, and tips his hat to her, like a gentleman. As if nothing unusual just occurred. He strides up to her, and Krickett's feet are glued to the ground. Almost gently pats the top of her pink hair. He _tssks_, and shakes his head back and forth. "Don't come back," he says, and then walks away, back into the Thneed factory, green pinstripes billowing behind him.


	3. Empty Space

_Be warned, I get a little Dr. Suessey in here :)_

* * *

It has been three days since the hippie has returned, and the Once-ler feels as of something, small as it may be, is just not right. There is, say, a bug on the windshield of life. But his family, his mother in particular, has been noticing a disturbance as well. Of course, they let him know. "Buck up, Oncie!" cries his mother, "never say die!" His two brothers nod in agreement, although they honestly have no idea what's going on.

But it is more than that. The Once-ler sits at his desk, taps his pencil thoughtfully against the script for the upcoming Thneed movie. There is something more than a bug. There is a big bug that splattered against the windshield so hard it left a crack, and the crack is growing. He feels like snapping this pencil in half, but he has already gone through seven. He's been noticing a strange tendency to be snapping things lately. That can't be a good sign of anything.

_There is a hole in my heart _

_A chasm in my mind_

_The thing I want is the thing I can't find _

_But what is this thing_

_This thing I can't find_

_Up and around and underneath my behind_

_I have a void_. "That's it!" he exclaims, slamming his fist on the desk in triumph. "That's it! I have a void..." If his mother isn't breathing down his neck, it's his aunt, if it's not his aunt, it's his brothers, and if it's not them, it's his loud uncle blabbering, "I love _this_ guy!" So, Once-ler leaps to his feet and rushes to his mother, who is busy getting a manicure done by another distant cousin twice removed.

"Hi, my sweet, adorable little Oncie," she begins, but that's all she can get out before the Once-ler starts frantically dragging her out the door. "Pack your stuff, Mum! I'm sending you and everyone else on a vacation! Your rich son is sending you on a cruise!" he says, faking excitement and truthfulness.

"But-but why, Oncie?" she stutters, evidently making no attempt to hide her thrill.

"Because you guys inspire me!" He lies right through his teeth. "I'd be nowhere without you."

As expected, his family packs their numerous and useless belongings. They fall for it like a sack of potatoes. And as the Once-ler waves goodbye as they sail away to _who knows where_, he shouts, " Goodbye! I'll miss you! Don't forget to write!" with a satisfied little smirk.

Maybe now that void could be filled.

* * *

Not to the Once-ler's knowledge, the hippie girl also is not feeling as hopeful as usual. She sits on a picnic blanket out in the forest with The Lorax, far away enough from the factory that they wouldn't get in trouble, but close enough they could read the flashing, glittery _Thneed_ sign. Krickett eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, him three-quarters of a grilled cheese, slightly burnt, a slice and a half of that cheese, please and thank you.

They munch in silence, until Krickett finally says, "What am I doing wrong? I shouldn't have been so scared! Think of the trees," she whines pathetically.

"Ahem." The Lorax clears his throat, sincerely feeling bad for the girl, but not having the proper words to help her. He can't blame her, after all. The demeanor of the Once-ler had changed drastically since they had last spoken, and he can assume he has turned rather nasty by this point in time. He settles for, "Even if we can't do anything, Sweet Bean, _I'll_ always be here."

Krickett smiles at him, and he swears her eyes are watery.

* * *

The advertisement reads, _Get the Chocolate From Way Out West-Where the Chocolate is the Best_! The Once-ler frowns. How very…unoriginal of them. Oh well. Hopefully they aren't liars.

His family has been gone three days, and the hole inside of him is worse than ever before. Logically, he comes to the conclusion that he is merely hungry. _Very. Hungry_. And nothing satisfies a rumbly tummy like chocolate. He orders one thousand boxes, all milk chocolate. He knows it is not as good for you, but he is the world's most successful man, so who cares if he gains a few pounds? He's so tall no one would probably even notice.

They arrive the next morning. Once-ler sits in his office and eats chocolate bar after chocolate bar after chocolate bar until he nearly brings all twenty of them back up. He waits a little while, and sure enough, it settles in, and he is one hundred percent sure he's no longer hungry. But the hole is still there, and if possible, it's gotten bigger.

He drags himself over to the window, feeling a thousand times heavier. He decides to take out his telescope and observe nature. Possibly that will help, although he can't explain why this could be true.

Ah. There's the hippie girl, having a picnic with the monstrous Lorax himself. For the first time he truly, genuinely _notices _the odd colour of her hair, her unusually pale skin, not a far cry from his own. He sighs and plops back down next to a box. Sadly, he pulls a chocolate bar out and absent-mindedly begins to take large chomps from it.

Then it hits him.

Really, the answer has been in front of him his entire life. He just hasn't noticed it until this very defining moment. Oh, if only Once-ler had listened to his mother sooner! And now she's stranded on some-or, rather, she's on a tropical cruise, with his idiotic brothers, _without him_! _Oh well_, he tells himself. _You're a big boy; you know what you're doing_. Now all he has to do is actually get out there and _do it_.

He finally knows how to fill the void.

"I need…a girlfriend!"


End file.
